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Nannied today. Naturally things turned chaotic in front of Edward’s parent. His daddy came home, changed him, tried to put him down. I changed Kingston and Kingston did what all good little boys do under the influence of fresh air on a part normally covered… So I changed his outfit as well. Edward did not sleep and raised the roof. Kingston decided he desired to eat and wept bitterly. So, there, at the end of my shift were two screaming little pairs of lungs and a stressed nanny. Put Kingston in the car, he did not sleep, so we found a shady patch of roadside to park the car. I fished him from the back and gave him something to eat. Afterward, when he had properly spit up on mama I returned him to his seat. A nice man in a car asked if I were ok. “Oh yes. I just have an infant.”

Yes, kind sir. I am mother. I do not find it necessary to change an outfit just because another person spit up on me. I leave cups of coffee to cool and a sink full of soapy water and unwashed dishes. Once I planned dinner. Now I plan showers. I have been known to go to bed without brushing my teeth. I get boogies out of someone else’s nose—with my bare hand. I now know red lights induce crying. And that successfully getting a baby put down asleep is the equivalent of Ready-Set-Go! for a to-do list. I realize that two hands are unnecessary–God was just being nice. I once got Vogue in the mail. Now I get coupons for baby food. I have cotton patching every part of me that might start leaking randomly. I haven’t had a baby in my belly for three months, but I’m still wearing maternity. I share physical characteristics with a cow. And it has nothing to do with producing milk. I haven’t slept longer than four or five hours in a row since February 5th.

Yes, kind sir, I am mother. And I’m obsessed. I look at pictures of him again and again. I stare at his little face, and wrists, and beautiful hands. I have a person whose favorite place in the world is snuggled against me. (I would have two such persons were it not for the existence of golf courses.) I have tan, chubby little thighs to admire, and someone to tell Love You’s to. And one day, the I Love You’s will be whispered in return. One day there will be Happy Mother’s Day wishes and walls papered with abstract renditions of myself in Crayola red.

Yes, I am mother.

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Oh yes, I do know where you are coming from. I used to be so emotionally put together, now I am only just as good as my little man is. I recently told a colleague whom we all admire because she is so gorgeous and dresses like a fashion icon that i do admire her but i would put her on a pedestal if she could have a child and still “have it” like she does. It changes you, not necessary the physical appearance, that is minimal, its the emotional that is strongest. How do you describe how you understand a grunt and a point from across the room even if it is not in your direction. Before presentations and netmeeting success were the pivot of your day, now its a dr just saying “lungs are clear” and you feel like you just won the Olympic.
Oh yes, i am a mother…a very proud mother :)

Mary, what a beautiful ode to motherhood! You capture the challenges with humor and the sweetness – oh the sweetness! Made me tear up. Love the photo, too, what an adorable expression on your little guy.